Saber-toothed
by Arches67
Summary: In need of help, John goes to Zoe.


Hi there.

A little one shot to keep my itching fingers busy. While we are in the process of writing the sequel to White Interest (patience), I have been kindly requested to stop writing more stuff while the plot isn't totally finished…

So I figured I needed to do something, and reverted to my comfort zone: H/C; with a little dash of Zoe (can't get enough of her) and some Shaw added to the mix (I'm warming up to her).

The result? This little shameless hurt comfort piece, with not much of a plot… and John whump (yeah… again…, sorry John)

As usual, English still a foreign language, so please forgive me for any weird phrasing. Beta'd by KSPretenderFan (thank you very much!), any mistake left is mine.

Enjoy!

* * *

There was a knock at the door. Zoe frowned in surprise and glanced at the clock to confirm the time. It was late enough for it to be way past mundane visits.

The following thud on her door had her jump to her feet, rushing to check the peephole. She could only see a dark shape to the side. Whoever was at her door was leaning against it and wasn't visible. She wasn't expecting anyone.

"Zoe," said a soft raspy voice.

"John?"

Opening the door at the same time, Zoe found her arms full of 6.2 feet of dark suit.

"Whoa!" She exclaimed almost being pulled down by the sudden weight.

She managed to hold the body and slipped a hand around his waist.

"John, what…" she didn't finish her sentence, helping the obviously wounded man to get inside.

Moving slowly, she directed them to the living room.

"Bathroom," John murmured.

Changing directions, she led them, stopping by the toilet thinking that was what John had meant. He straightened slightly and unhooked himself from Zoe's arms. He walked to the shower wall and let himself slide slowly to the floor. He exhaled deeply in obvious relief, his head bowed.

Zoe looked at him. He had blood all over his shirt and his jacket seemed torn in several places.

"I'll call an ambulance," she said keeping a cool voice.

Zoe was not a woman who lost her calm because of some blood. Even if there was a lot of it… on someone she cared about.

John raised his head and looked at her.

"Zoe, if I had wanted an ambulance, I wouldn't have come to your place."

"But…" she waved her hand hesitantly, showing his body.

"It looks worse than it is."

"You're covered in blood, John!"

"Most of it isn't mine."

Zoe winced. "Why isn't that making me feel any better?"

"You know the saying; you should see the other guy…" John answered trying to lighten the situation.

"And you just made it worse," Zoe shot back not giving in to the humor.

John was bleeding all over her floor, she didn't find anything amusing in that. She was pretty sure that was the reason he had requested the bathroom, so he wouldn't get blood all over her living room. If he could still think about that, then maybe it wasn't that bad after all.

John sighed. "Zoe, I'm fine… mostly," he added when he saw the withering look she sent.

"All right then; let me check you out."

"Love it when you check me out," he answered with a flirtatious smile. He only got an irritated glare for an answer.

She kneeled by his side and helped him get his jacket off. She couldn't help a gasp when she saw the damage. His –previously white– shirt was stained with blood, obvious cuts in more places than she wanted to count.

"John!"

"Just a few cuts," John downsized.

"A few…" Zoe found herself at a loss for words. "John, you look like you met a saber-toothed tiger in an alleyway!"

John couldn't help a chuckle, followed by a slight groan when his ribs complained. "A saber-toothed tiger?"

He was holding his right hand to his side, covering an area that seemed to be bleeding abundantly. She rose to get him a towel. He winced as he applied more pressure to the wound.

"What do you need?" Zoe asked, understanding that John had come to her place to get patched up.

"Disinfectant, gauze, bandages."

He untucked his shirt from his pants and lifted his right hand still holding the towel to his left side. He gave a disgusted wince as he looked at the wound.

"Some stitches?" he added tilting his head.

"Stitches? John, you do not want me to stitch you up. Last time I held a needle was art class when I was twelve."

"Patchwork 101?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Ok, don't worry. I'll ask Shaw."

Zoe fumbled with his jacket looking for his phone.

"Zoe, what are you doing?"

"Calling Samantha."

"I meant tomorrow."

"Are you out of your mind? John, that wound must be pretty deep to bleed like that. You cannot wait a full night to get stitches. It's kind of late, but she'll understand."

John had a doubtful grimace.

Zoe went through the numbers on the phone, then pressed the dialing button. While the tone rang she put the phone on speaker. Shaw might need to talk to John to assess the damage and come prepared.

"John, you'd better to be dead to call me at such an ungodly hour. Or you can be sure, _I_ will kill you," Shaw's voice growled.

"Does bleeding out all over my bathroom tiles count?" Zoe asked in a tentative voice.

There was a stunned silence on the end of the receiver.

"Zoe?"

"Hello Samantha. Your partner got in trouble and needs someone more qualified than me to nurse him."

"How… never mind. Keep him awake, I'm coming."

Shaw ended the call without further comment. Zoe couldn't help a small smile as she disconnected the call. John's partner was one of a kind.

John was sprawled on the floor, his hand lose on the towel.

"John, are you keeping pressure on that?" Zoe asked putting her own hand on top of his and pushing.

He winced at the renewed pain. She looked around then spotted her robe.

"Keep this tight for a minute," she told him rising to get the robe's belt.

Kneeling by his side, she wrapped the belt, added an extra towel and pulled tight. This time John couldn't keep a moan. He breathed deeply, his eyes scrunched, trying to stop the tremors in his body.

"Zoe, I hate to ask, but would you have some painkillers?"

"Let me check."

Zoe rose to her feet and checked her shelves.

"Advil?" She turned to him with the box in her hand.

"Nothing stronger?"

"A glass a whisky?" Zoe joked.

She saw a spark going through John's eyes, then he had slight chuckle.

"I can always pretend I wasn't fully conscious, but you'll be on your own when Shaw has your head for giving alcohol to a wounded person."

Zoe took two tablets from the box and filled the glass on the sink with water.

"Two?" John asked incredulous. "Zoe, this is a little bit more than a headache."

"You're not supposed to have more than two at a time. Take it or leave it."

"You were ready to give me whisky!"

"I was joking, John. I know better! "

John extended his hand to get the tablets. Zoe made a disgusted face when she saw the hand, dirty and stained with blood. She shook her head.

"Open up," she said putting the tablets on his tongue and making him drink the water.

He emptied the glass thirstily. She rose to fill the glass again.

"Here, you probably need fluids."

John obediently drank the water, then let his head fall back against the wall closing his eyes. Sitting by his side, Zoe put a hand to his face and kissed him softly.

John sighed in pleasure.

"I like your bedside manners," he whispered.

"Samantha told me to keep you awake."

"I like your methods..." John let his face rest against the hand savoring the feeling, his eyes drooping.

Zoe rubbed his cheekbone with her thumb a bit roughly.

"No sleeping, John."

"'m not sleeping," he mumbled.

"Open your eyes."

"They're open."

"Nope, try again," said Zoe with a smile.

He opened his eyes and as usual she felt herself drown in the pure grey. She closed her lips to his again, kissing him softly. She didn't mind if she had to keep kissing him until Shaw arrived. She never got enough of it.

"This floor is kind of hard. Don't you want to sit more comfortably?" she asked pulling back from his face.

"No this is fine. Closer to the ground if I pass out," he explained when he saw her frown slightly.

She winced in worry, feeling useless. Shaw hadn't said how long she would be, keeping John awake might prove more complicated than expected. She needed to make him talk, which she knew was as difficult as having him admit that he was hurting.

"I didn't know you had a past with alcohol," she said softly.

John raised his head sharply, looking at her with a wondering frown. Zoe shrugged slightly.

"That spark in your eyes when I offered you whisky…" She hesitated for a second, "I've seen it before."

"I've been clean for almost four years now…"

"But your body remembers. The monster is asleep, but it will always be lurking…"

"Don't I know it…" John whispered.

"What happened?"

John sighed.

"Sometimes life throws more stuff at you than you can handle…"

Zoe saw the haunted look in his eyes. It must have been pretty bad to make him snap. She had seen him after detective Carter's death. He had been a wreck, cutting ties with everyone, herself included. But from the look in his eyes, that previous time had been worse. A dearly loved one was probably involved.

John was looking at Zoe's face. He could see she was trying to understand, but not willing to pry. He had made it clear from the beginning that his past wasn't a topic to be commented. That didn't prevent her from worrying for him.

"Her name was Jessica. I loved her… like I never loved anyone…" he hesitated wondering if Zoe would be jealous.

Zoe shook her head with a tender smile understanding he was trying to spare her feelings.

"John, we're not teenagers. We both have a past love life. God, I certainly hope you have been madly in love at some point!"

"I should have saved her…"

"I'm sorry," whispered Zoe. Seeing your loved one die was probably the worst that could happen. And despite his cold looks, she knew John had a tender heart.

"Yeah, me too. And killing the bastard that was responsible for it didn't even really help."

Zoe swallowed hard. She knew that John's past was pretty dark, but admitting to murder to her was something he had never done so far. His control was ebbing away along with the blood from his body. _Where was Shaw? _

"What made you quit?"

"I found a job…"

She wondered if he meant Finch. They remained silent for a moment.

"Don't fall asleep John."

"I know…"

"You weren't kidding when you said he was bleeding all over your tiles."

Zoe nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn't heard Shaw get in.

"God, Shaw. You could have knocked!" John reproached.

"And miss the two of you cuddling on the bathroom floor?"

She remained by the door, eyes squinted, assessing the damage on John's body. She made a small face at the amount of blood on his shirt and obvious cuts everywhere.

"Zoe can you get a sheet or towels on your dining table? I'm going to need have him lie down to work on him."

Zoe rose and hurried to the living room. Shaw approached John and looked down at him.

"Can you get up?" she asked coldly.

"I can try." He wasn't looking forward to it; sitting on the floor was good.

He grabbed the offered hand and pushed himself off the ground. He almost went back down when the dizziness hit. Shaw was ready for it and held him while he regained his composure.

"How much blood did you lose, anyway?" she growled.

"Enough."

"Yeah… I didn't think I needed to stop by the hospital to get blood for you."

"I'll be fine."

"Sure…"

She helped him to the table and removed his shirt. She was taken aback by the amount of cuts on his body.

"Jeez, Reese! What did you get yourself into? Went two rounds with a saber-toothed tiger or what?"

She took surgical gloves from her bag.

John turned his head to Zoe who had had a light chuckle.

"Have you two been seeing each other?" he asked. The thought was disconcerting.

Shaw was removing the towel tied to his side. Her eyes opened wide when she saw the wound.

"Shit, John. This is serious stuff!" She touched the edges of the cut and John hissed. "At least you got the bleeding down to a minimum."

She checked the rest of the cuts, some on his arms, others on his chest, a couple in his back (she was surprised by those, John knew better than presenting his back to an opponent). Thankfully, most were shallow, although some would need a few stitches too. She rummaged through her bag.

"Damn!" she grumbled.

"Not enough thread?" John joked.

Although he tried to play it down, John was totally aware of the amount of damage, and the number of probable stitches it would require to close the wounds. Making light of it helped keeping in control.

"Forgot I was out of Lidocaine, smart ass!"

Reese winced. The next minutes were going to be a new kind of hell.

"Slip off your shoes and lie down," she instructed while she went through her bag once more. "Zoe, could get me warm water, please?"

"Sure."

Shaw cleaned first the abdomen to take care of the worst wound. It was quite deep. Not really life threatening but in need of serious treatment.

She threaded the needle and started the task. John breathed deeply, fighting the burn spreading all over his body.

"Don't move, John!" Shaw instructed.

"Just breathing here," John complained.

"Well, don't!" she snapped.

Zoe couldn't help a light chuckle at the exchange. They were making it look that they were discussing a minor splinter, not a ten inch rip on John's side.

John clenched his teeth, closing his eyes, swallowing the pain. His moved his right hand trying to get the table edge to hold on. Two soft hands wrapped around his. He opened his eyes to look at Zoe who was giving him an encouraging smile. As Shaw pinched the skin again, he couldn't help clenching his hand around Zoe's and she winced. He immediately opened his fingers and took his hand away, hating to hurt her, but she held tight, softly caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. He focused on that soft touch, on the hand holding his. He locked his eyes on Zoe's. He could see she was hurting for him, but putting on a brave front on his behalf, helping him ride the pain.

"Last one, John," Shaw announced as she cut the thread.

He closed his eyes, breathing deep. It hadn't been as bad as he had feared.

"You're good at this, Shaw."

"Lots of practice…" the ex-agent whispered, "on myself mostly."

"Thanks."

"Well, don't relax yet. I'm not done with you."

John grunted. "The rest are grazes."

"Reese, I don't tell you how to do your job. Just let me do mine."

Shaw moved to the other cuts, applying some butterfly strips or some stitches when needed.

"Okay, so what happened? I didn't know we had a new case."

Now that the worst wound had been treated, she could talk at the same time, at least make John focus on something else.

"We don't," he replied briefly.

He could almost hear Shaw tapping her foot impatiently in her head, expecting more. He could indulge her for once, so he carried on. "I was at the homeless shelter…"

"Reese, I'm sure Finch will give you a raise if you ask."

John shot her a reproachful glance. "I was volunteering…"

"I know," Shaw answered with a smile, glad she had forced him to reveal it.

"Tired of spying on Finch, so you switched to me?"

"Figured you would be easier," Shaw confirmed.

"You volunteer at a shelter?" Zoe asked in awe. How did he manage that? And as far as she knew he already did a lot for people.

"They helped me when I needed it. It's only fair that I repay the favor."

"And they keep a saber-toothed tiger cub."

John frowned incredulous. _What was that saber-toothed joke?_

"John, I know how you fight. I can't begin to understand how you could get this mangled," Shaw exclaimed.

The ex-operative sighed.

"Billy is an addict. Most of the time he is inoffensive enough, sleeping his drugs away. I guess the last stuff he got his hands on was cut with some pretty dangerous crap. He went totally wild. When I arrived at the shelter, the guys had managed to corner him in the kitchen." He winced in disapproval. "Not the best idea as he got his hands on two _very_ large knives. I tried to stop him. The drug made him totally unpredictable, unbelievably fast… I didn't want to hurt him."

Zoe was looking at him in awe, her eyes wide. That man kept coming up with surprises she hadn't expected. She was a good judge of characters and knew how to play people. John was a constant enigma. Putting his own life in danger to spare the one of an addict…

"Well, you might want to rethink the 'not hurting the adversary' strategy next time," Shaw said as she applied a final bandage on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Shaw."

John moved to sit, only to be pushed back down. Shaw put her hand to his belt to undo it.

"Hey!" John yelled in protest.

"What? You're going to tell me that Billy only aimed at your upper body?"

"Mostly..." John answered sheepishly.

Shaw put a finger through a rip in the pants' left leg, raising an eyebrow. Reese let himself fall back on the table with a defeated sigh.

"Yeah, thought so…" Shaw mumbled shaking her head. She opened the pants and started pulling them down. "Hope you're not wearing your teddy bear boxers today," she joked.

Zoe couldn't help a gasp when she saw the legs. Though far less numerous than on his torso, there were quite a few cuts on his tights. Focused on the glaring red patches on his shirt, she hadn't even noticed the damp spots on his pants. Fortunately, those were all superficial.

John was starting to lose the battle against sleep, his body needing to recuperate. He had a strangled scream when Shaw pinched his ass with a needle. It was the only part of his body that hadn't been hurting so far.

"What…?"

"Antibiotic," Shaw explained. "John, infection is the real serious threat now. I'll get you the stuff, take it. I'm pretty sure you don't want to lose a body part."

"All right, doctor," John singsonged.

Shaw shot him a dark glare, meaning business. Reese nodded slowly. She was right of course. That amount of cuts untreated could prove lethal. She prepared another syringe to inject.

"Painkiller, faster acting this way," she explained, when she saw him raise an eyebrow.

"You could have started with that," John murmured, wondering if he was whining.

"Needed you awake," Shaw answered.

"He had some Advil while we were waiting for you," Zoe advised.

"You might wanna try green tea next time," Shaw mumbled, while injecting him.

"For the flavonoids?" Zoe wondered.

"Tastes better and has approximately the same effect on this extent of injuries."

John sat with a grunt, holding his tender side. Zoe handed him a bottle of water.

"Zoe, give me a few minutes and I'll be out of your way," he said emptying the bottle. He had lost blood enough times in the past to know that he needed to rehydrate his body thoroughly.

"Yeah, right," Shaw laughed. "If you can make it to the door before passing out, I'll personally drive you to your place," she challenged.

John opened his mouth to protest, then decided against it. She was right. Just sitting was proving difficult.

Zoe turned to Shaw. "Help me get him to my bed."

"Thought you'd never ask…" John tried some levity.

Together, they mostly carried him to the bedroom. He was out before Zoe had finished covering him.

Zoe caressed his brow softly, closing her eyes in relief.

Shaw took her elbow and led her to the couch. She helped her sit down and went to the kitchen. She came back a few minutes later with a mug.

"Here, drink this," Shaw said putting the warm cup between her hands.

Zoe realized then she was shaking. She looked up at Shaw with a lost look.

"Shock," Shaw explained. "I was wondering when it was going to hit you." She smiled at Zoe's raised eyebrow. "Handled yourself like a trooper back there."

Zoe shrugged, uncertain, curling around the mug, she was cold. She was used to face dire situation with a cold head and keeping her calm. The downfall wasn't usually this hard. She was exhausted, almost on the edge of tears.

Shaw grabbed the blanket on the couch and put it around her shoulders.

"You realize he's going to break your heart, right?"

Zoe opened her mouth to protest, but Shaw cut her before she could talk.

"Not voluntarily, of course. But some day he won't make it alive from one of his encounters and…" Shaw shrugged. They both knew how dangerous his life was.

They remained silent. Zoe sipping her tea, thinking about Shaw's words.

She hadn't even realized that she was in love with John. Sure they had been seeing each other for a few months now, but "love" hadn't really been part of the equation. They enjoyed each other's company, fully knowing that their lives didn't afford for much more than that. What they had was great, fulfilling and satisfying, but feelings were not really involved, at least never discussed.

She had raised a wall around herself; she loved her job and was fully dedicated to it. She didn't have time for romance. She chose her partners for her needs and a few pleasurable hours, but she made sure to break off before it could get serious. When she had started seeing John, she had soon found out that he was in the same state of mind. Explanations weren't needed, they just went along. It suited them both perfectly.

How he had managed to breach the wall, she had no idea. But evidently, he had.

"You've got it bad, girl…" Shaw said with a sigh.

Zoe shrugged slightly.

Shaw took the mug from her hand. It had long gone cold. "Get some sleep. I'll drop off the meds and a change of clothes for him."

"Thank you Samantha."

Shaw winked and let herself out of the apartment.

Zoe went to her bedroom, changed quickly and put her hand to John's forehead. He was running a slight fever. Not surprising after what he had been through. She placed a soft kiss on his lips and cuddled by his side.

* * *

John woke up hurting all over. He kept his eyes closed inventorying the different wounds. He had a frustrated moan. No way he was going to be able to move today… He'd need to call Finch, who would probably give him hell for getting hurt during his free time; lecturing him about choosing safer downtime activities.

"Hey," said Zoe by his side.

He looked at her. Her hair was all mussed up, and she had the trace of her pillow on her cheek but her smile lightened up the room. He took his hand to her face and turned to kiss her, but had to stop the movement when his side burned in pain. Pushing him softly, Zoe moved and put her lips to his in a soft kiss.

"Morning," he answered when she let go of his mouth.

"How are you feeling? No lies," she added when she saw him shrug.

"Due for more painkillers?"

"Shaw said she would drop some. I'll call to check when she's coming."

"You should check your kitchen counter first," John advised.

"Wha…?"

Jumping from the bed, Zoe went to the kitchen and came back with a note.

"I should really update my security."

"Good. Never too safe. I'll have Finch call you."

Zoe shot him a dark look. He always let himself to her place without bothering to knock.

"Shaw left you a letter?" John asked pointing to the paper she was holding.

"More like instruction on how to take care of suicidal patient…"

"Suici…?"

"You should be in a hospital! Why did you come here in the first place anyway? Not that I mind of course," she added as an afterthought.

"Honestly? Because you were the closest… and Finch would have freaked out, if I had shown up covered in blood like that."

"You said most of it wasn't yours."

"Billy had a massive nose bleed by the time I put him down."

"Not that I encourage such behavior, but why didn't you resort to more drastic measures when you got that badly hurt?"

"Billy is a good guy. I couldn't just knee cap him. He made some wrong choices when life got too tough for him, not his fault."

"Well, they were _his_ choices."

"Sometimes you need a helping hand afterwards."

"And who was yours?"

John tilted his head, letting her process her own question.

"Finch, of course. I get why you don't want to upset him. Still John, you lost a lot of blood…"

"Lost more a couple of months ago," John whispered.

"You almost died a couple of months ago!" Zoe bristled. She didn't want to go back to those terrible weeks.

The flash of pain that went through John's eyes crushed her heart. He hadn't, but a person he loved had. She rushed to his side.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. She brushed his hair. "I was so scared for you…"

Silence fell; understanding flowing between the two of them. After a few minutes, John raised his hand to touch her face softly.

"So, what does the doctor say?"

"Is she really a doctor?"

"Yes, although she hasn't practiced in years." He chuckled when he saw her eyebrow rise, "licensed doctoring wise…"

Zoe looked at the note.

"_Zoe, some tips on how to take care of your charge (good luck). I left antibiotics and painkillers. Antibiotics, once a day for ten days; painkillers, every six hour, with food. Lots of fluids, preferably water. Keep him in bed as long as possible (not like that!). Keep the bandages dry and change them every two days. If he tries to get out of your place, use that gun under your coffee table. Then call me, I'll come remove the bullet. S. PS. I picked up his ruined clothes and will bring some for him to change into later, at least that way he won't be able to escape."_

Zoe fought to keep her face straight at John's scowl.

"I'll go make breakfast, relax."

"Zoe, I'm not having breakfast in bed," John growled.

She was going to protest, then saw his eyes. She relented. With his body weakened, he needed to keep some dignity. If getting up to have breakfast did it, she'll let him come to the kitchen. She then would make sure to get him back in bed.

"Take your time. I didn't even start the coffee yet."

Getting up and going to the mundane tasks of using the toilet and washing his face took a toll. Zoe had left a dark blue robe for him. He winced. He couldn't remember the last time he had put one of these on.

He walked slowly to the kitchen. He had probably lost more blood than he had thought to feel this weak. He sat with a relieved sigh at the kitchen counter.

"Juice, coffee… drink!" Zoe ordered in a firm voice.

"You're going to stick to Shaw's instructions to the letter?"

"Oh yes. _I_ don't want to get in her crosshair," Zoe answered with a shudder.

A few minutes later, she put a plate of pancakes in front of him.

"Eat, then you can have the painkillers."

"Bossy, aren't we?"

"So next time you play vigilante, you'll think twice before coming to my place."

"No problem, I won't do it again," John answered in a dark voice.

"Oh _John_. That's not what I meant. You should have gone to the hospital. You probably need a blood transfusion and definitely medical care." Zoe bit her lips fighting her tears.

"Hey," hushed John pulling her closer. "I'm okay Zoe."

He kissed her lips softly. She wrapped her hands around his neck and deepened the kiss. Opening her mouth she welcomed his tongue. He tasted of fresh coffee and the sweet taste that was all him. She moaned in pleasure. They came apart to breathe.

"God, I love you," Zoe whispered.

"I know," John answered in a slightly reproachful tone.

"I know…" Zoe answered back, accepting the reprimand. "Samantha said you would break my heart."

"I…"

Zoe stopped him with her hand on his mouth. "Don't. Eat your pancakes, John. You need to take your meds."

John nodded and took a bite. His eyes opened in pleasure. "You made these from scratch! They're delicious, Zoe."

She nodded her thanks.

John took another bite almost moaning. "I'm almost glad I got hurt. These are great."

"Secret family recipe. And you don't need to get hurt to have them. Just… keep alive."

Switching his fork to his right hand, he took her hand in his, squeezing it softly.

"Thank you for holding my hand yesterday night."

"I wished I could have taken some of your pain…"

"It helped, Zoe," he said with a smile.

By the time he finished eating, he was so exhausted that he wondered if he would be able to make it to the bed. Zoe smiled seeing his drooping eyes.

"Come on, off to bed," she said helping him up, a bit worried when he didn't complain.

She helped him get settled down.

"I meant to ask you… What was all that stuff about the saber-toothed tiger?" John asked.

Zoe chuckled. "Last week's National Geographic TV. I guess Shaw caught it too."

John raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"They were scary but also beautiful strong animals." Zoe tilted her head watching him. "A little bit like you, I'd say…"

"I've been called a lot of things in my life… I don't recall anyone calling me a saber-toothed tiger…"

Zoe smiled fondly.

"You're going to sing me a lullaby?" he murmured when she put a chaste kiss on his forehead.

"Silly… go to sleep," she whispered as his eyes fluttered shut.

He had her hand in his again. She sighed.

"What am I going to do with you, John Reese… or whatever your real name is…" she said softly shaking her head.

* * *

The end

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